Lessons in Loyalty
by sammy-girl12
Summary: When 13-year-old Arthur's life falls down around him, he will do whatever it takes to make it all seem okay. When he falls to far into his indulgence, will Alfred and his family be able to pull him back out of harms way? R&R Please.
1. Intro

_**A/N: **_**This is my personal beliefs on paranormal on-goings, and I'm sorry if your offended or disagree, but please keep in mind that I don't want to hear you rant at me about it. Thanks. ((But if I do mess up on the mythology, feel free to let me know so I can fix it.))**

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**Intro**

_It was once common knowledge in our world that there are things beyond our understanding. Things that the average person cannot see or contact without help. We lived knowing these things were amongst us, and not questioning why, because that was life. But as time went on, our fear of the unknown grew as we had more time to ponder such things. Gradually, we began to fear and make excuses for their existence. At one point, people's fear grew so great, it consumed them. They cried "Witchcraft!" and deemed such things as 'Evil', a shameful memory for our race._

_Today, the average person usually chooses to deny the existence altogether, closing their eyes and making themselves ignorant to the unseen world. If every person was the average person, though, there would be no story. So we are lucky, in a sense, that Arthur Kirkland is not the average person._


	2. Grandmothers Lessons

The Kirkland family had a long history of magic, and even if it was seen as just a large joke to those outside the family, it was common knowledge within it that every other generation received the gifts that the Kirkland's were known for. Arthur and his older brothers all had the gifts, though Arthur was the only one who took any true interest in them after his 6th birthday. Ironically, he was also the clumsiest with it, often forgetting the little things in his grandmother's potion recipes, or accidentally slurring his words while casting a spell. He once ended up giving the his grandmother's cat a big tail, much to her delight, and his parents distress.

One day, when Arthur had yet again messed up a potion, and Alistair took it upon himself to let him know how useless he was when it came to magic, his Grandmother found him hidden in the depths of her rose garden, watching the fairy's drink from an old copper saucer she kept out for them. As hard as he tried not to, Arthur found himself sniffling softly, trying to stop the steady flow of tears on his porcelain cheeks.

"You know," She said as she lowered herself beside him, watching the fairy fly away to find the chocolates she kept hidden about the garden. "When I was your age, I was no good at magic either." Arthur looked up to her, taking in the way her gray hair looked in the dimming evening light, hiding the lines in her face. She looked ageless, powerful, and yet held her composure and lady like air. Her eyes, the green Kirkland eyes, shined with wisdom he could only dream to have one day.

"Really?"

"Oh yes." She said, chuckling softly. "I messed up spells, put milk in iron bowls instead of copper, the only thing I was good at was potions. The rest I had to earn my skill at."

"I'm no good at potions." He said, pulling his knees up to his chest and looking back at the bowl were more fairy's had gathered.

"But I've never seen a lad better at caring for creatures." She said as she began to comb her fingers through his hair. It was true, the fairies and other creatures liked him more than his brothers, and we're always happy to see him, though this did little for his mood.

"What good does that do though?" He asked, looking back up at her. She smiled, sweet and soft like she always did when she was trying to dumb down a very complex lesson for him and his brothers.

"You can brew potions for luck, life, and love, but they will always be temporary. You can cast a spell to protect, to defend, and to control, but they will always be fake. What you can't make, what you can't cast, is true devotion. You, Arthur, have a gift more useful than any potion, more powerful than any spell. You have friends."

This brought a smile to the small boy's lips. Even if he thought potions and spells were more useful, it was nice to know his grandmother thought him special.

She was, after all, his hero.

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Arthur was thirteen when his grandmother died, and at the time, he was convinced it was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. He got the news from his mother, and in the back of his mind he realized that it was weird, because his parents usually delivered bad news together. Later he would realize it was because his father didn't want Arthur to see him cry.

It was a Friday, and he came home to her waiting for him at the kitchen table. She beckoned him over, giving him a soft smile as she did so, as if it would clear away the tear stains on her cheeks. When he sat beside her, she took his hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

"Arthur, deary, there's something I need to tell you."

He was able to hold back the tears until he was safe in his own room, and had locked the door behind him. He kept telling himself she wasn't gone, she couldn't be. They would go to her house for a visit and she would come out and give him a big hug, leaning on her old walking stick with the same smile she always wore. But, when they did stop by the house, she didn't come outside to meet them on the porch. The only greeting they received was her cat, a Scottish fold named Gentleman that was the whole reason they were there at all.

While Arthur's parents were trying to coax a startled Gentleman out from under the couch he had run to when his father had tried to pick him up on the porch, Arthur went around back to say goodbye to his only friends.

He couldn't say he was shocked to find the garden empty, with everything else that had happened, but he still had believed that this place- this colorful happy memory, safe haven from his brothers and the outside world- would always be available to him in times of need. He had never been so painfully wrong in his life. Arthur cried the whole way home, despite Gentleman's constant tries to console him.

So much for friends.

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**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, they'll get longer, promise :P**

**Feel free to leave a review, criticism welcome, and yeah. :3 Thanks for reading.  
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	3. Lessons of Loss

The day of his grandmother's funeral came sooner than he would have liked, and, though he didn't cry, the sorrow he felt was enough to make him actually considered not going at all. But when he went downstairs to find his father crying in the early hours of the morning over an old photo of him and his mother, he changed his mind.

Around eleven, his mother came in his room with an old black suit he had only worn once, to was too his brother Erin's wedding, and though Arthur could care less about his brothers love life, the rest of the family had been ecstatic about the event. Wearing the suit that had once been part of something so happy, so accepted, to something so terribly depressing and unwanted, seemed ironic to him, though he didn't relay these thoughts to his mother.

"You look so handsome, Arthur." She cooed as she tried to manage is unruly hair with a wet comb. "Your grandmother would have loved to see you all dressed up... She loved formal wear." Her eyes filled again with tears, though they didn't fall. She merely smiled and continued trying to fix his locks, murmuring things like 'My handsome boy' and 'Such a mature young man you are.' until she gave up, only having managed to make his hair slightly damp.

She wore a small, conservative black dress, with her brown hair pulled tight in a simple bun. Her makeup was light, and no doubt waterproof, trying, obviously, to look casual, despite the pain in her large blue eyes. She looked exactly like what everyone else would look like. Sorrowful.

They arrived at the church an hour later, were they met up with the rest of the family who had flown in from all over too pay their respects. Greetings from aunts and uncles he didn't remember, cousins he only saw on holidays, and one awful experience with an old friend of his grandmother, who had managed to get herself pissed on the small bottle of whiskey she had hidden in her purse.

Family members talked, most cried, some laughed, and it seemed everyone had something to say about his grandmother. Arthur watched, silent while everyone made their speeches, waiting for it all to end. He didn't want to be in here, cooped up in a little church on a little wooden bench where he used to go with his grandmother on easter. He didn't want to look at the slide show of pictures that his parents had supplied along with countless others from family members and friends. But it wasn't until the congregation all took part in song that he had finally broke.

It took Arthur a moment to understand why they were all standing up, but when the organ began to play a familiar tune, he knew.

'_Amazing grace_

_How sweet, the sound_

_That saved a wretch like me'_

All he could really see was her face, smiling and bright as she hummed the song under her breath, tending to her garden beside him.

'_I once was lost_

_But now I'm found_

_Was blind, but now_

_I see.'_

The tears started to fall before he could stop them, singing along as he had so many times before. He felt a hand grip his shoulder, and looking up, found it to be his brother's boyfriend, Francis.

'_Twas grace taught_

_My heart to fear_

_And grace my fears relieved'_

His voice was hoarse, and he almost felt bad for ruining the song, but he found it would be a worse insult to stop, so he continued.

'_How precious did_

_That grace appear_

_The hour I first believed'_

He started to mumble slightly, not entirely sure of the words, and scolded himself for not learning them in whole. It was a song he should have been familiar with, but the only thing he knew was the tune. He never thought he would have to sing it himself. Only listen to her sweet voice as she did it for him.

'_Through many dangers, _

_toils and snares_

_we have already come'_

Arthur could taste the salty tears that were running down his face, as he started sobbing quietly to himself. He tried to stay quiet, no longer singing, seeing as the only noises he could make were chocks and sobs, but it was hard. He felt like he was falling, and he didn't know what would be worse. Hitting the bottom, or having no bottom to hit.

Francis' moved closer to him as he putt his arm around his shoulders instead. His voice stood out more than the others now, soft and heavily accented, but not a bad lead to the song. Arthur closed his eyes as to listen better, letting the voices of congregation wash over him.

'_Twas Grace that brought _

_us safe thus far_

_and Grace will lead us home''_

The song ended, and the only noise left in the room was Arthur's slight sobs and Francis' attempts to soothe him. He was now being hugged to the Frenchman's chest, who whispered calmly that it was okay, it would all be okay. She was happy, she wasn't in pain, it was okay.

It would all be okay

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_**A/N:**_**Sorry if the song thing was annoying, but know that if will probably happen again because I have a song that goes with each chapter ((But it wont happen every chapter, just if there listening to music that's important to the chapter like in this one.)) **

**Reviews are more than welcome~!  
**

**Thanks for reading~!  
**


	4. Learn To Be lonely

It wasn't until a week later than he would leave his room when his parents were home, and a week after that when he would take meals with them. Slowly, little by little, he began to come out of his shell, opening up to his parents bit by bit. He still only left the house for school, though, and he hardly talked to any of his old friends.

But, gradually, he adjusted to life, as did the rest of the family (He wasn't the only one who was severely depressed afterwards). His brothers went back to their homes, the frequent phone calls from relative stopped, and people eventually stopped telling them how sorry they were, or how great of a woman she was. Life went back to being its normal, dull self, though it never did seemed as colorful, and Arthur missed the smell of roses and the giggles of the fairies. But he did earn a few small tokens to help him threw the loss.

First off, Arthur's parents had inherited all of her old cookbooks, potion recipes, and fairy tales. When he had spotted one on the shelf a few weeks after her funeral, he had timidly picked it up and began to flip through the it, handling the old yellow pages as if they could fall apart at any moment. He had taken it into his room, and read it cover to cover, before placing it on his own bookshelf and gone to find another. Eventually, Arthur had hoarded all of the old books in his room, where he read and reread them to his hearts content. In the cookbooks and potion recipes, he could find little hand written notes at the bottom of the pages, scrawled out in her old, excellent cursive. He would stare at them, studying the loops and curves in the writing until he was positive he could replicate it exactly without practice.

The second, was his grandmother's old cat Gentleman. Gentleman was a white scottish fold with large orange spots on his fur. He was old, having belonged to his grandmother for as long as he could remember, and had always favorites him.

When they had first taken in Gentleman, he had been so scared at the sudden change in environment, that he had hidden under Arthur's bed for nearly a month, only coming out when he and Arthur were alone, and food was offered. Though he wondered about the house freely now, he always tried to stay close to Arthur, and spent the majority of the time in his room. The cat was a pleasant reminder of his grandmother, after all the time he had spent playing with it on her rug in the living room. He and Gentleman had always been friends, and the way it watched him made him Arthur feel safe. Like he was keeping a careful yet trusting eye on him, to make sure he was never in trouble. The same way his grandmother had.

It was almost three months later when Arthur found himself home alone with a book, on a friday night. The rain outside beat mercilessly against the windows so hard Arthur feared for a moment they would shatter. His parents were out at dinner with his aunt and uncle who had flown in for a visit. They had extended the invitation to Arthur, but he had declined in favor of an evening with the house to himself, free of distractions from his homework and reading assignment. Arthur sat, with Gentleman curled up in his lap, reading _To Kill A Mockingbird _when the phone rang. At this point, Arthur could hear the thunder booming outside as the freak rainstorm became more and more violent, beating on the roof relentlessly. Arthur vaguely noted the clock by the phone and how late his parents were as he answered.

"_Is this the Kirkland residence?_" a stern, unfamiliar voice asked.

"Yes." Said Arthur, slightly confused. _'Who would be calling at this hour?' _he wondered as he waited for the man to continue.

"_This is Officer Green. There's been an accident involving a Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland._" Arthur's heart skipped a beat before speeding up painfully at the news. Before he could stop himself, he was talking into the receiver.

"Are they okay?" He asked, panicked. "What happened?"

The man on the other end of the line hesitated for a few seconds, before replying, the slightest bit of apology in his voice.

"_Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland are dead."_

And then the power went out.

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**_A/N:_ Sorry for the incredibly short chapters so far ;A; and the lack of Alfred. He probably wont how up for a few more chapters, but I've been trying to write as much as I can so you don't have to wait very long. The chapter after next should be pretty long, but don't hold me too that. Again, sorry...**

**Reviews help with motivation and such, so yeah :3 but to those who have already left some thank you~! Your very sweet.**


	5. Learn to Forget

The rest of the night was a blur to him. He knew he cried, because the next morning his eyes were red and puffy when he looked in the mirror, and he knew he had never left the living room, seeing as he woke to find himself on the ground, Gentleman laying beside his head protectively. But other than that, he had no proof the night had happened at all. Arthur had almost convinced himself it was a cruel dream, when his older brother Erin walked in. The second Arthur spotted the mass of red hair and green eyes, he broke out into fresh sobs. Erin's presence confirmed his worst fears.

Arthur's parents were dead.

The funeral was held a month later and, to be honest, Arthur didn't remember most of it. People cried, hugged him, avoided him, and again, sang. Francis found him, and stayed within sight, which confused Arthur more than anything. Why would he care? Him and Francis had never gotten along, despite rare moments when they needed each other, like at Arthur's grandmother's funeral. Mostly they just bickered, and Francis being so protective over him was strange, though he soon found out why.

After the funeral, Alistair approached him and asked him if he had his stuff ready.

Arthur gave him a slightly confused look, making Alistair looked at him like he was stupid for a moment, before he seemed to become angry.

"Erin didn't tell you, did he?" He asked, already looking around for the ginger brother who had also seemed to be avoiding him.

Another look, and Alistair seemed to deflate, the stress of the whole thing showing itself on his usually stern face.

"Your coming to live with me and Frany in America."

He ran.

He ran out of the church and down the road and just kept running until he fell. He collapsed up against a tree in a field a block or so from the church and cried. Of all the family, of all his brothers, he had to live with Alistair. It made sense, of course. He was the most well off, he was the oldest, and he was the farthest away from the home that no longer existed. But there was one problem. They hated each other.

Ever since Arthur was little, Alistair loved to pick on him, and as they got older, it got worse. One time he actually found a way to trap Arthur under the house, and left him there for three hours. Arthur was now claustrophobic. Another time he'd pushed him out of a tree, successfully breaking his arm. Arthur is afraid of heights. But the worst, was how Alistair never missed an opportunity to tell him how horrible he was at magic. How grandmother had pitied him. How he should just give up before he kill them all.

The day Alistair had moved out, had been the best day of Arthur's life, and now he was going to spend the rest of his time as a minor with him.

Arthur cried.

He cried, and cried, and cried until his head hurt and he could scarcely breathe he was sobbing so hard. He cried because he would never know another affectionate person, never know another soul that really loved him. Arthur was alone. Not even the fairies had tried to talk to him since this whole mess began. And on top of it all, he was going to America. America, were he knew no one other than his least favorite relatives.

Arthur couldn't even see, he was crying so hard, convinced his life was over. His parents were dead. His grandmother with them. His brothers hated him. He was leaving his lifelong home to live with someone who had tried to kill him more times than he could count.

Arthur wasn't even aware that he was standing until he was at the edge of the curb. He looked over the the truck, burrowing down the road and thought 'What if?' but the second his foot stepped out onto the asphalt, a hand grabbed and violently yanked on his shirt, making him fall backwards onto his ass safely back in the park. He looked up, and saw Alistair standing above him, glowering down at him like he was the worst thing that could ever happen to humankind.

"There's been enough death for today, don't you think?"

Past him, Francis stood by a car, his suit jacket now abandoned, looking on with sad blue eyes. So thats why Francis had been following him. He pitied the poor little orphan boy that had been thrown at his feet to invade his home.

'_How they both must hate me._' Arthur thought as followed after Alistair towards the car. '_But no worries. I would hate me too._'

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**_A/N:_********Again, I'm so sorry for how horribly short and boring the chapters are ;A; I promise they'll get longer, just bare with me. And I know its all a little rushed, sorry..**

**Criticism**** is more than welcomed**

**Thanks for reading**

**Bye~!**


	6. Learn To Hide

They left for America the next day, leaving behind the home Arthur had always known. Erin had left the funeral early, apparently, and packed all of Arthur's stuff for him, including the books and his cat Gentleman. He slept through most of the flight, only waking up when he became hungry or had to use the bathroom. All in all, it was very uneventful, and Arthur was barely conscious for most of it, though his dreams were plagued with his parents faces, his grandmother's voice, and even at one point, his own funeral.

Arthur woke screaming, startling the people around him. Francis, who had insisted on sitting by him, wrapped his arms around him and cooed until Arthur finally settled. It took another hour before he would sleep again, but even after he drifted off, Francis kept him in a tight hug, scared he would awake frightened again.

The next thing Arthur knew, he was waking up in a soft queen sized bed, wrapped in what could be the fluffiest comforter he had ever seen. He sat up, taking in his surroundings groggily. The walls were a lime green color, decorated with oil paintings and photographs. The dresser was a dark red oak, and sat at the end of the bed. The bed itself was large with a fluffy green comforter.

Francis had always liked nice things. Always surrounded himself with them. Which was funny, because Alistair was nothing if not simple. He bought only what he felt he needed, and didn't waste if he could help it. But Francis was the exact opposite. He went all out with everything, spending ridiculous amounts of money sometimes. But he worked, and used his own money, so no one could really complain. But Despite the fact that Alistair had insisted on the average size house that was, in fact, very plain, Francis had managed to make the thing look like a palace.

Arthur climbed out of the bed and shuffled into the hallway. He could hear someone talking in the kitchen, well, arguing seemed the better word. He stopped outside the door to the kitchen to listen for a bit, making sure he wasn't about to walk into world war three.

"What are we going to do with him Franny? Were not parents. At least I'm not."

"And your brothers are? Alistair, _mon cher_, what do you propose we do? Give him away? Hasn't he already been through enough?"

"He isn't the only one who's suffered from all of this Francis. Besides, he doesn't even like us."

"That's where you're wrong, mon amour. He might not be fond of me, but he loves you. Your his brother."

Arthur expected Alistair to come back with something insulting, directed at either himself or Arthur, but nothing ever came. The room was silent. And in that silence he could hear Francis return to what he had been doing, the sound of pans and the fridge opening indicating that he had been making breakfast before Alistair and he had started to argue. Arthur waited a few more minutes, just to be safe, before entering himself. He gave a nod to Alistair before sitting down at the kitchen table, and staring out the window until a plate was placed in front of him.

After he finished his mostly quiet meal, he excused himself to his new bedroom, where he now noticed his few suitcases resting in the corner, waiting to be unpacked. Whilst in the process of doing so, he also found Gentleman, hidden beneath his bed in the far corner, and as Arthur crawled his way under to fetch him, he noticed how comforting it was. The small space, just big enough to let him know he could breath, and just dark enough to allow him to shut out the world. Arthur curled up beside Gentleman, stroking the cats hide, for which he received a soothing purr of delight from the animal as it leaned into the soothing touches.

"I can see why you do this Gentleman." Arthur whispered too the content feline. It mewed in response, almost making Arthur smile.

He spent the remainder of the morning beneath the bed, dozing off once or twice, but always awakened by a nightmare or loud noise from somewhere in the house. Eventually, he was called to lunch, and when he returned to the bed, he brought a flashlight and book with him, were he read for the remainder of the evening. He didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he did, he dreamed of something other than death and loss. He was standing in a familiar field, waiting for someone. Someone important. Someone worth waiting for.

"Arthur!" He heard a voice call. It was happy, and a little too loud, but it made his heart jump all the same.

"You're late." Was his response. He turned around to where the voice had come from, and running through the field towards him, was a boy. He was was a few inches taller than Arthur, with dirty blond hair and the biggest smile you could image. When he was closer, Arthur saw how magnificent his eyes were. Clear, summer sky blue, and they smiled wider than his face ever could.

That was as far as it got before he woke up, head on a pillow, book gone, and wrapped in a blanket that hadn't been there before. Tired, and still confused by how real the dream had been, Arthur tried to sit up before he remembered that he was under the bed, and he laid back down, drifting off into sweet oblivion again, though this time without any dreams at all.

Francis knocked on the door too Arthur's room, calling him for dinner. When he received no answer, he became worried and let himself in. The room seemed empty, other than the partially unpacked suitcases.

"Arthur?" Francis asked. No answer. He began searching the room, panic steadily creeping over him. Arthur had already tried to jump into traffic, who's to say he wouldn't try again? Right when Francis thought he would faint from worry, he heard a soft, sleepy moan from under the been. Curios, he bent down to investigate, and found Arthur fast asleep, with his head on an open book. His cat was curled up protectively by his side, and shot Francis a look when he noticed him. The frenchman chuckled before standing to retrieve the small blanket he kept at the foot of the guest bed that was now Arthur's, and a pillow. After taking the book away, he slid the pillow beneath Arthur messy blond hair, and wrapped the blanket around him.

"Poor boy." He murmured, stopping in the doorway to the room and giving Arthur a sad smile. He then turned, closing the door softly behind him, and made his way to the kitchen where he would eat his dinner with his partner, and discuss Arthur's future when the boy wasn't eavesdropping


End file.
